


the many pricks of a needle

by avoidfilledwithcelluloid



Category: Beyond Re-Animator (2003), Bride of Re-Animator (1989), Quantum Leap, Re-Animator (1985)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Some crossovers to be added later, Tumblr Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:50:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4733348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidfilledwithcelluloid/pseuds/avoidfilledwithcelluloid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of smaller fics that were originally posted on Tumblr, now moved over to ao3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dan And Herbert Both Go to Prison

**Author's Note:**

> I will preface this whole thing by saying that I just want to hv all my fics in a collected place. I want it to be easy to find them, read them and think about how dingus they are. Most of these have prompts buttttt i can't remember them all so u'll hv to forgive me if that isn't included. anyway. 
> 
> hv a good time reading these.

When looking at the ceiling of a prison cell, it is important to watch for shapes. Symbols hide themselves in the cracks and holes of cement. Meaning is there for the person who looks long enough.

Dan rubbed his eyes with the back of his forearm. Beneath his closed eyes spots of muted color exploded. He could feel the dirt under his fingernails and could hear, in the cell next to his, Herbert muttering to himself. When he turned over his bed creaked and Herbert went silent.

“Dan,” he said ever authoritative even stamped with a number on his prison blues, “Are you awake?”

Tongue fuzzy, Dan didn’t answer. He kept his eyes on the brick wall now. His cellmate was snoring with a clicking noise coming from the back of his throat.

“Dan I know you’re there,” Herbert drew his name out. He’d gotten a single cell: a concession the prison had had to make following the unfortunate streak of dead cellmates Herbert left behind him. Dan could have told them that their attempts to socialize Herbert weren’t worth the trouble. _Save yourself the body bags,_ he would have said, _and put that man in solitary until he rots._

“Have you ever read the bible Dan?”

The wall was painted grey. All the bricks looked gummy from the paint laid thick. Weren’t there guards that should have come by now? To hit the cell bars and scream at them to cut the chatter? Outside everything remained silent.

“Judas was paid thirty pieces for his betrayal,” Herbert said and Dan could hear him opening a book. Probably taking notes on Dan’s reaction. He could even guess at what Herbert was thinking.

_How will Dan react if I mention Meg? How will Dan react if I kill a rat and leave it at his cell door? How will Dan how will Dan how will Dan?_

Being someone’s focus was a painful and tiring thing.

“Thirty silver pieces,” Herbert clipped each word as though he were cutting them out of a newspaper for a ransom note, “How much did they pay you Dan? I heard you are only in for twenty years and you’re up for parole. A model prisoner, hm Dan?”

“Thirty six,” Dan said.

“What was that?”

“I have thirty six years,” Dan said and Herbert made a noise of acknowledgement, “And no. I’m not up for parole. I might get my sentence shortened though. If I stay out of trouble.”

Herbert hummed, flipping pages loudly, and Dan traced a triangle in the crevices of the wall.

“If it pleases you to know,” Herbert said in a voice too casual to be anything but forced, “I forgive you.”

Dan clenched his fingers to his palm. He pressed his fist to his thigh in an attempt to keep the anger in him focused. That did not stop its warmth invading all his limbs.

“Keep your forgiveness,” he said and found that he meant it, “You’re not the one I’m apologizing to.”

“Shut the fuck up,” his cell mate said and Dan heard the clatter of Herbert dropping his book, “Can’t fucking sleep when you got these lover’s spats.”

Herbert was silent and the bunk rattled when Dan’s cellmate rolled back over. Dan turned on his back and watched the ceiling. There was a hairline crack right above him and he wondered, with no heat behind the thought, if he could punch it hard enough that the ceiling might collapse on him.

But dying would be too good of luck, wouldn’t it?


	2. Re-Animator Quantum Leap crossover thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sam leaps into meg and u know. is sam.

Someone had left their curling iron on and Sam could smell it burning. He reached into the purse slung over his shoulder. Rummaging, he found a mirror and took a look at his new face. Button nose and big eyes all capsuled by bobbed blond hair. The name on his Massachusetts’ driver’s license said “Megan Halsey”. He snapped the mirror shut. The curling iron belonged to Megan so he unplugged it, setting the tool down away from the sink.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. Answering it Sam found himself looking into the face of a man his own height in a red sweater and collared shirt. He was smiling in an easy way, eyes bright with a familiarity.

“You ready to go Meg?” the man asked and Sam was quiet. He nervously ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh,” he said, “Yeah I’m good. Let’s go, um, babe.”

Inside the man’s car was a strange and murky smell. Sam tried to keep a subtle posture but he couldn’t help trying to place the scent. Once they pulled up to a small student’s house he figured it out: the smell was formaldehyde. The man opened the passenger car door for Sam and held out his hand to help him up.

They walked up the front steps without letting go of each other’s fingers and something felt out of place about the way the man was approaching the door. He took apprehensive steps. A light shone through the thin flowered curtains and a dark figure paced behind them. While the man fumbled with his keys Sam studied his nail beds. They were disgusting. Maybe Megan Halsey had a cuticle pusher in her bag. Thankfully she’d been in a sweater when he’d leapt into her. It was cold as an ice box outside.

“Sorry,” the man put the key in the lock, jiggling it with his head turned to talk to Sam, “I thought he was going to be out but I guess he’s still here. I know you don’t like it. Um, I’ll see if he can buzz off. Just long enough for us to study.”

His voice was springing full of nerves. When the lock clunked open the dark figure in the window went still. One quick movement and Sam watched the figure dash to the door so when the man opened it the figure was waiting in the foyer.

“You’re back,” the figure, now appearing as a short, slim man in a white oxford, flecked with something luminescent, and black trousers, “I didn’t think you would come back so soon Dan.”

Dan. The man was named Dan and he was shaking his head, one hand propped on his hip while the other one covered his eyes. Sam tried not to stare at the stains on the short man’s shirt. Something told him he wasn’t supposed to unlock the secret behind them.

“It’s my house Herbert,” Dan said and, grabbing Sam’s wrist, moved past Herbert, “I do go out from time to time.”

“Don’t be so upset Dan,” Herbert followed Dan. He nodded at Sam in a curt acknowledgement, “Hello Miss Halsey. Are you well?”

“I’m—“

“You always act like this,” Dan interrupted Sam and stood in front of him. Sam inched away from the oncoming fight and sat on the couch. It made a crinkling sound when he hit the cushion. He pressed his knees together and balanced his purse on his thighs.

 _When the hell is Al going to get here,_ he thought as Dan and Herbert’s voice grew louder.

“I’m only concerned for our more delicate experiments Dan,” Herbert stretched the name Dan like taffy. It molded and melted along his drag of the single syllable, “You can’t be dropping in without contacting me before.”

“Dropping in? I live here! I swear to fucking God Herbert. I told you Meg and I were going to come here to study. In fact, you’re the one who is supposed to be out. You said you were going to the campus for—“

“I said no such thing!”

“Am I a liar now?” Dan folded his arms against his chest. His gaze kept flicking over to Sam with expectation written in his eyes. Sam, not really knowing how to engage with the argument, gave him a thumbs up for support. Dan shook his head and went back to fighting with Herbert. He was growing sweatier and sweatier.

The sliding noise of the imagining chamber door opening came sounding out. Without thinking Sam had been holding his shoulders in tense awareness of his surroundings and the arrival of Al’s holographic visage.

“Well hello,” he said as he phased through the armrest to stand next to Sam. He leveled the fight in front of them with a raised eyebrow, “Looks like I came just in time for World War III.”

“Al,” Sam said. He tried to keep himself quiet so as to not draw attention, “What in the name of Sam Hill am I doing here?”

“Ziggy says there is a,” Al paused and whacked the handlink with the base of his palm until it started flashing again, “A seventy three percent chance you are here to stop that little guy from going to jail.”

“He goes to jail?” Sam said much louder than he’d meant to. Dan’s head snapped over to him and nodded as though Sam had strengthened his argument.

“That’s damn right,” he said, “If you keep doing that shit in the basement, you’re going to go to jail Herbert.”

“I will take you all the way down with me Dan.”

“What’s in the basement?” Sam asked. Both men looked at him. Herbert smirked.

“Nothing you’d be interested in,” he said as Dan’s face went pale. Al made a coughing noise.

“Looks like you might be here for a while,” he said. Sam groaned.   


	3. Norman Bates goes to Dr. Dan Cain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> norman bates sees dan for check ups bc weirdos attract i guess

It was very quiet in the waiting room; Tuesday wasn’t a popular appointment day at Dr. Cain’s practice. Norman liked the new chairs Dr. Cain had put out. The receptionist, a pleasant faced woman with blonde bobbed hair and a brown cardigan, refused to look him in the eye. He could see her glancing over and then sharply turning away. As if he couldn’t feel her looking.

 _You know why she’s looking,_ the weedy voice rose through the synapsis of Norman’s brain, _you’re a freak. A bad person. Do you hear me Norman? Do you hear me?_

Norman caught the receptionist mid-glance and smiled at her. It was a very tired smile. He had worn it so many times back at the hospital for every orderly who handed him a small paper cup of pills and every doctor who had asked softly could he hear Mother. What a good boy said the smile.

A clicking noise and there was Dr. Cain in the doorway. Norman liked Dr. Cain. His smile seemed very real.

“So we’re just here for a check-up right Norman?” Dr. Cain sat in the swivel chair set up in the unpleasantly clean smelling examination room. Norman was sat on the butcher paper covered exam table trying not to make too much of a crinkling noise. He didn’t want to bother Dr. Cain because he was fidgety, “Norman?”

“Oh,” Norman snapped out of his thoughts about staying still, “Yes Dr. Cain. This is just a check up.”

“Good, good,” Dr. Cain smiled again and flipped through Norman’s chart, “So do you have any questions for me before we start?”

“No,” Norman said. He pinched some of the paper between his thumb and forefinger rubbing it there in circles. The voice, the weed, it curled at the base of his brain. It was not happy with Dr. Cain, “I don’t have anything to ask.”

 _You just keep quiet Norman,_ the voice crackled, _Don’t let this pretty boy get anything from you. We kept our secrets in that hospital, didn’t we? We’ll keep them here. We will keep them here._

“Alright Norman,” Dr. Cain said and then swiveled to a set of drawers, “We’re going to take some blood now. Are you okay with that?”

Norman could hear the tinny pop song over the radio. He rubbed the paper harder between his fingers feeling it get smoother and smoother under his ministrations.

“Yes that’s fine.”

Dr. Cain had large hands and when he pulled the needle out of the drawer his shoulders drew up tight. Norman noticed how he didn’t linger on the syringe, that his casualness was performed. He noticed because the voice told him to, said in its thin voice that Dr. Cain was afraid of the needle.

 _He’s afraid of you,_ the voice said, _Of that needle and you. Because you’re bad Norman. You’re a bad person._

“He’s not afraid of me,” Norman said but forgot himself. Dr. Cain made a humming noise at Norman’s outburst.

“What was that Norman?”

“Nothing Dr. Cain,” he mumbled and let go of the paper between his fingers. “I was just, uh, talking to myself.”

Oh, the wrong thing to say. Dr. Cain’s smile turned into a frown. He put the syringe down, picked his chart back up. Sometimes Norman had dreams of splitting the clipboard with his entire medical history on it, cracking it down the middle and throwing it away. A real clean start.

“Have you been taking your medication Norman?” Dr. Cain wasn’t looking him in the eye. _Probably can’t._ Not now please. Dr. Cain is nice and is not afraid. _He’s afraid of you. Everyone is._ No, no. No, “Norman please answer me.”

“O-of course I have been Dr. Cain,” Norman swallowed, flexing his shoulders and trying to make his body smaller, “Or course. I would never skip.”

 _Liar_ , the voice sprouted vines and they made a curling mess around Norman’s brain.

Dr. Cain sat back. He didn’t touch the syringe again. He was staring at Norman now, tapping his pen against the clipboard. He opened his mouth, breath on the tip of forming a word, when there was a knock on the door. Dr. Cain glanced up and opened the door with one hand. The blonde bobbed receptionist was there, holding the phone with her hand covering the receiver.

“Doctor,” she said and Norman was momentarily surprised. Her voice was light, a little piece of paper wavering in the wind. She sounded scared, “There is someone on the phone for you. He says, uh, it’s urgent.”

“Did he give you a name?” Dr. Cain stood up and put his hand out for the phone. The receptionist nodded but said nothing else, “Well?”

“Its,” she said and glanced at Norman before whispering, “It’s him Doctor. The one you said, you said he wasn’t going to call again.”

“Jesus,” Dr. Cain took the phone from her, looked back at Norman and tried to smile at him. Norman knew it was fake, “I’ll be right back.”

Norman waited for an hour before the receptionist came in and told him to go home. When he walked through Dr. Cain was still on the phone, talking very quietly. Norman picked up one or two words, picked up the name _Herbert_ and a few _What are you doing_ and _Please_. He waved at Dr. Cain when he left. Dr. Cain did not wave back.


	4. Post Beyond Re-Animator Sad Dan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dan hears abt herbs getting out and is like shit shit shit shit

His cell phone rings but Dan doesn’t answer it. He lets the voicemail get it and rolls over in his motel bed. The sheets are scratchy, smell like off brand detergent and other people.

In the back of his head he can see headlines that are screaming: ESCAPED PRISONER STILL AT LARGE.

Dan thinks, _I wonder where he’s hiding,_ and then remembers he already knows. He has always known where Herbert would go. Like a bird come home from warmer areas to roost in the winter of his old nest, Herbert would go to Dan. Maybe it was a smell he gave off. Maybe it was the way he never quite left Massachusetts, still moving around to towns which bordered Arkham. There were three shots of bourbon still settling in Dan’s stomach already making his eyes go a little blurry.

The practice would open tomorrow but there wouldn’t be anyone there to take care of the patients. Lyn had a key; he’d had enough close calls that giving his one receptionist a copy of the master key was a requirement. She would unlock the front door and expect him there. Oh that the space would have him in it but no. He had to leave. The feeling of cool fear in his spine made him leave. Herbert made him leave.

(That wasn’t entirely true. Did Herbert give him night terrors or make him jump out of bed sweating and with a second, no wait, third wife looking at him in blank misunderstanding? There were faces that haunted Dan’s dreams and they didn’t wear glasses. The faces had hands that caressed and oh, how they were crying. The faces said _You did this to me_ and _You let him ruin me_ and Dan couldn’t outrun them. All the horrors he’d seen had shattered like mirrors and now when he ran in his dreams his feet came up bloody.)

The newspaper was on the nightstand along with a set of glasses and Dan’s car keys. He was keep the newspaper, probably to shove in Herbert’s face when he next saw him but also to keep a piece of evidence around. To make sure he remembered that Herbert really was out there, tie whipping in the wind, and he was coming ever closer.

His cell phone began to ring again and this time Dan answered it.

“Your assistant gave me the number,” was the first thing Herbert said to him in eight years.

“What did you do to her?” Dan could feel his tongue get fuzzy, “Did you, Herbert, did you hurt her?”

“What?” Herbert sounded rushed, “Of course not Dan. I’m not some boogieman. I am attempting to retrieve information not start another man hunt for myself.”

“I would say that concern is coming too little too late,” Dan said, “Why are you calling me after all?”

“After you betrayed me you mean?” Herbert hummed and Dan could hear a clinking sound in the background, “Well, believe me or do not believe me Dan. I do not suffer those who have no respect for myself and my work. I only call to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?”                                                                          

“That you are,” and here Herbert went quiet with only the sound of his breathing audible. Dan was silent as well. For a short period all that both of them could hear was the soft echo of the other one’s existence. Dan looked at the newspaper on the nightstand. It had come out three weeks before.

“That you are alive,” Herbert finished, “Are you alive Dan?”

“I’m going to find you Herbert,” Dan said coldly, “And I am going to kill you.”

Herbert laughed, a wheezing sick laugh that reeked of a monster come out of his cage.

“Come and get me,” he said and hung up the phone laughing madly as he did.


	5. Herbert Weest gives Ash Williams a BJ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yeah. exactly what it says on the tin. herbert and ash get it on.

The hand spayed over Ash’s chest is very, very cold.

“You have a very rapid heartbeat Mr. Williams,” Herbert West says and slides his palm up until his fingers are circling Ash’s throat. Ash gulps back a whining noise and avoids looking directly into West’s eyes: those bright beacons to reminiscent of portals into hell pits and the Middle Ages.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “You gonna kiss me or what doc?”

West snorts, the first human sound Ash has heard from him, and leans down to press his wet mouth of Ash’s. His breath is a curl of formaldehyde, his tongue strong and wrestles with Ash’s while his hand squeezes dents into Ash’s throat. Ash reaches up, uses his metal hand to grasp hard and pull on the short tufts of West’s hair until he feels keening sounds drag out of his throat; his other hand is making quick work of West’s pants. West uses both hands now, circling Ash like a necklace or fate, and they grow tighter and tighter the closer Ash gets to his dick.

“You,” West chokes out but whatever he wants to say next is gone with Ash holding his dick in one large palmed hand. He jerks up, knows that his hand is dry and scraping West’s sensitive skin and the growl he gets in return almost makes up for the way Ash is getting light headed from the choking.

“Uncle,” he says weakly and there, the thin huff of West’s laughter, signals the release of the hands around his throat. West leans down further, kisses the bruises he’s left, while he unbuttons Ash’s shirt to press cold palms against his nipples. Ash bucks up at the sensation, his dick brushing against West’s thigh through the layers of their pants.

He’s not getting choked anymore but this still feels overwhelming, an ocean that is swallowing him whole and now moves down his chest with thin lips sucking bruises like calling cards. He’s releases West’s dick in favor of pushing his head down until it’s level with his crotch and the responding smile West turns up toward him makes a shiver run down Ash’s spine.

“How base,” West says but still unzips Ash’s jeans. He pulls Ash’s dick out over the waistband of his briefs and, covering the base of it with his small hand, slips the head into his mouth with a sound slick and sloppy. Moans crawl their way from Ash’s mouth and his fingers dig into West’s scalp. He could just crush that delicate skull, feel the wet brains ooze out with only a stronger grasp, the right squeeze. The thought bounces between his eyeballs as West goes down further on his dick, cupping his balls and blinking quickly like he’s making notes in his head.

Ash comes to the thought of smashing West’s head on the concrete, the idea of the little gremlin who sucked his dick leaking blood and brain juice with the cruel glow of his eyes just fading fading away.

**Author's Note:**

> come and join me in hell at my [tumblr](http://avoidfilledwithcelluloid.tumblr.com/)


End file.
